24 | F A T E

maybe I'm a fucking wastefilling up the empty space.

   OF ALL THE scenarios that could have happened, Ember hadn't thought of a single one. And appearing out of a black cloud right now, she couldn't catch a thought of anything at all.

   Remus dead. Tonks dead. Fred ...

   She couldn't end that thought. Nor did she want to think about who else might have lost his life during the battle. And who might would lose it before the night's end.

   With blurry vision, she released her breath; her body was trembling, and it took her a second to realise where she was.

   Dust was covering an old wooden floor; long, deep scratches decorated the walls; the windows were nailed shut with boards, and the furniture looked like something had ripped big pieces out of them with razor sharp teeth. In the midst of this chaos, wearing his usual long black coat, stood Severus Snape, looking at her in sheer shock.

   "Say, Miss Potter, have you lost that last remaining bit of your mind?", he hissed, his pale face slowly turning from shock to anger.

   "You've something I need", she replied, her voice cracking under the weight of the loss she'd just witnessed. "Draco told me. He said there's another one. Another what?"

   "Listen", Snape snarled, "and listen closely." He reached into his robe, but what he took out, he kept into his fist. "This could be the key ... Changing anything we know."

   "What — ?"

   "It's close. The Dark Lord soon will enter the battlefield, there's not much time left for your brother to finish whatever Dumbledore had ordered him. This", he said, rising his fist, "could change anything or nothing at all. You know about your brother's prophecy?"

   "Dumbledore's got you involved in this?", Ember replied, narrowing her eyes. Of course the old headmaster had. He had trusted Snape. It had been his downfall, and Ember wouldn't make the same mistake. "Why would I trust you? You murdered him."

   "Well, so far you don't have a choice", her former teacher replied. "I'll give this to you, it's up to you if you use it, but you might for once want to use your brain for something useful."

   "What is it?"

   He opened his fist, and Ember blinked in surprise. It was two years ago she had last seen one of those, and now Malfoy's words made sense. It hadn't been in the ministry when they got destroyed.

   A small ball of glass, a white fog whirling in its inside; a prophecy.

   "Is it — is it about me?", Ember said, slowly stepping closer.

   "Well combined." He let it slide into her now outstretched hand. "The Dark Lord's on his way. Leave. And tell your brother to come and find me as soon as possible."

   "What do you want from Harry?"

   "You wouldn't want to hear." His face wore an unreadable expression. "Go now."

   And Ember nodded. In this gloomy place it was no competition to conjure the shadows to take her away. And with a last glance into Snape's concerned dark eyes, she was gone. 

·

   The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall. Harry could not see Fred’s body, because his family surrounded him. George was kneeling at his head; Mrs. Weasley was lying across Fred’s chest, her body shaking, Mr. Weasley stroking her hair while tears cascaded down his cheeks. 

   Ember, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

   Without a word to Harry, Ron and Hermione walked away. Harry saw Hermione approach Ginny, whose face was swollen and blotchy, and hug her. Ron joined Bill, Fleur, and Percy, who flung an arm around Ron’s shoulders. As Ginny and Hermione moved closer to the rest of the family, Harry had a clear view of the bodies lying next to Fred: Remus and Tonks, pale and still and peaceful-looking, apparently asleep beneath the dark, enchanted ceiling.

   What he didn't know, was that Ember had passed the Great Hall without even looking at it just as he stood there with his back turned towards the door. Now she found herself in the Hufflepuff common room, spinning the small crystal ball between her fingers, hesitating.

   Whatever it would tell her, it wouldn't change a thing. Fred was dead, and it was her fault. If she'd just stayed at Shell Cottage with him, just as Remus had ordered ... And Remus, and Tonks, both gone, leaving their son as an orphan, before he could even speak his first word.

   Before she could stop it, a tear escaped the corner of her eye, running down her cheek, slipping from her chin; it splashed onto the warm surface of the prophecy, and holding her breath in fear from what's coming, Ember watched the fog inside shifting, forming into a face, slowly parting its lips.

   "Light and darkness, both be born when the seventh month dies; one to usher forth an era of bliss, one to end the world in suppression and despair.   The day innocence is taken, darkness arises from impurity.    A sudden death in deepest hour shall bring a change of leadership.   Neither can live, while the other survives."

   Startled, Ember watched the face turning into fog again, the words still hanging in the air.

   She had to listen to it again and again, and after the seventh time, she remembered every single word.

   Neither can live, while the other survives.

   There was something tingling in the back of her mind, like a really old memory from a life she once had.

   Neither can live, while the other survives.

   She'd heard it. Somewhere, somewhen ...

   It hit her like lighting struck and her eyes widened, as the memory invaded her mind with such intensity, she had to grab a hold on the canary yellow armchair to her left, so her knees wouldn't give in. Crystal clear, Snape's face appeared in front of her inner eye, his words booming in her ear, even though he'd whispered them back then.

   "Neither can live, while the other survives", he had spoken, and shivers ran down just by the thought of it.

   His faces vanished, and Harry's appeared, the ocean behind him, the night sky above him. "Neither can live, while the other survives. It's him or me in the end. I have to defeat him or die. Him or me."

   The prophecy slipped out of her fingers, landing on the floor.

   "Him or me."

   A million little splinters and shards covered the floor.

   Him or me.

   Voldemort or Harry.

   But it wasn't.

—